


To Bed, I Think

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Series: TTM Prompts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, The Cutest Thing I've Ever Written, honestly there is nothing to see here but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft's been away on business. Greg finds him when he gets home, but not quite as he expected. The cutest scene ever ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bed, I Think

Greg threw the door to the flat open and hopped inside to get out of the pouring rain. (The use of the word ‘flat’ was a gross understatement of the lavish building but it worked well enough to pass in conversation). He shivered lightly at the change in temperature, definitely favouring the warmth from the central heating inside to the chill of the London air and the cold drizzle outside.

Wiping his feet on the map at the front door, Greg shook himself much like a dog would have. It didn’t quite work to the extent that he had wanted it to so he peeled himself from his leather jacket and cursed himself for forgetting an umbrella. Again.

That in mind, he then noticed that another, rather impressive and expensive, umbrella stood pride and place by the door and he sighed gratefully as a relieved smile grew on his lips.

Greg toed off his shoes and ran a hand through his soaking hair in an attempt to shake off any clinging droplets before he shuffled down the hall in the direction of the office set up for Mycroft’s work.

Mycroft had been away for a whole week and Greg had missed him greatly. True, it wasn’t the longest Mycroft had ever been away for but that didn’t stop the detective from missing his Mycroft. He’d been away for near enough a month last time and the separation had been hard on both of them. That didn’t mean that one week was any better. He understood better than most that his partner had a time consuming job. He had quite the demanding career himself so he couldn’t complain about it. That didn’t mean that he had to like it, though.

Stopping at the door Greg knocked lightly and listened with an ear against it, frowning in confusion when he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. Not the ruffling of confidential papers nor the muffled tones of Mycroft’s voice telling the room his thoughts, and not even the usual 'Come in, Gregory’ in that crisply pronounced manner when he knew who was on the other side of the door.

Greg momentarily wondered if perhaps Mycroft, for once, had not brought the overflow of work home and had situated himself comfortably elsewhere in the house. Perhaps he had come home and decided to take a shower? But Greg couldn’t hear running water. Maybe Mycroft was curled up in a corner of the sofa watching television? But that would have meant a greeting at the front door.

He tapped lightly on the wood in front of him again before entering the room cautiously and calling softly, “Mycroft?”

The sight before him was the last thing he would have ever expected to see but it made him smile again and swell with love and adoration. Mycroft had indeed brought his work home but it seemed that it had finally gotten the better of him and the man had fallen asleep with his head resting on one arm atop the desk. The other arm was curled next to him, covering his mobile phone. His usually perfectly arranged hair looked as though a frustrated Mycroft had run his hands through it a few times. His usually immaculate suit was rumpled; his jacket flung across the back of his chair, the waistcoat pulled open, and his shirt sleeves pulled up to his elbows in uncoordinated creases of material.

The man at the desk was so different to the man that he put on show for foreign delegates, international negotiators, and even Sherlock. Greg had never been fooled by the bold, icy exterior that Mycroft put on like a mask and this certainly wasn’t the most disheveled state he had been seen in. Greg’s eyes lit up at some of the memories but those other thoughts were halted, however, when a soft sigh and a mumbled, “Gregory.” came from the politician.

Greg thought, at first, that he had roused the sleeping man, though when Mycroft didn’t acknowledge him further he realised his name had been uttered in sleep. He chuckled under his breath and stepped around the desk to lean back on its edge by Mycroft’s side. He ran a hand gently through Mycroft’s hair and pressed a kiss to the sleeping man’s head. “My,” he called lightly, trying to bring Mycroft back from his dreams. “Mycroft.”

Inhaling loudly through his nose and groaning, Mycroft lifted his head and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Greg didn’t think he had seen anything more adorable in his life but he didn’t dare mention the word 'adorable’ out loud in front of the man for fear of death.

“What time is it?” Mycroft asked in a low, sleep filled voice, as he squinted at the clock on his desk.

Greg threaded his fingers in the hair at the nape of Mycroft’s neck and kneaded the muscles there. “Half eleven, love. I just got home.”

Mycroft hummed appreciatively and leaned back into the touch. He smiled gently as he gazed up at his Gregory. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Greg replied with a bigger smile before leaning down for a chaste kiss.

Mycroft brought a hand up to twist his fingers in Greg’s hair and bring him closer by the nape of the neck. The DI sighed into the kiss, contented, as Mycroft did the same.

When they pulled back with just breathing space between them Greg pressed his forehead tenderly against Mycroft’s. “I missed you,” Greg whispered, looking down into those beautiful blue eyes. Mycroft’s gaze softened and his hand came around to cup the side of Gregory’s face, his thumb smoothing over his cheek.

“As I missed you, my love,” Mycroft replied and nudged their noses together.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they smiled almost shyly at each other until Greg stole a peck on the lips and stood. “To bed, I think,” he said decisively to the politician and held out his hand for Mycroft to take.

“To bed,” Mycroft agreed.


End file.
